


knife in my heart

by ezekiels



Category: The Dragon of Trelian
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezekiels/pseuds/ezekiels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calen bides his time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	knife in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> For Sophia.

Calen woke up screaming and Krelig smoothed his hair as if he was his son. Calen swallowed back disgust that so nearly escaped in his gasping, waking sobs. He couldn't give away to Krelig how much he hated him. He needed to stay focused, for them.

For Meg.

Later, while standing amongst the soldiers and slaarh, his thoughts couldn't help but drift to her. How could they not? His every dream was haunted by her. She was his living ghost. His last glimpse of salvation. A knife through his heart.

Krelig waved him over and Calen's hatred carried him through the soldiers and slaarh to his side. He listened to Krelig's plans of death and destruction. He listened and nodded, pretending he understands, pretending power means more to him than everything else.

He would find a way back to her. There was no other option. There was no compromise. He would return to her and, when he did, he would take whatever punishment she deemed necessary. Even if it meant standing on a ledge and looking down for hours. Even if it meant flying around on Jakl's back until he passed out from hunger. He would do whatever it took.

Krelig offered him a sword and Calen took it. The weight of it in his hands was sickening. He swung it recklessly at the nearest slaarh, beheading it in one blow. Calmly, he handed the sword back to Krelig, its blade dissolving under acidic burn of the slaarh's blood. "This is useless. I don't need a sword."

"Right enough," Krelig said. He was smiling, impressed. He was always impressed. Calen would gladly live a hundred years under Serek's judgmental gaze if it meant he would never see that look again. "Is it about time for your lessons?"

"It was about time two hours ago."

Krelig ruffled his hair.

Calen clenched his fists and fought the urge to shove Krelig into the acidic blood pooling beside their feet. He thought of Meg. Of her laugh. Her smile. Her wild eyes. Staring at him. Like a knife through his heart.

He swatted Krelig's hand away. "Are you going to stand there all day or am I going to have to teach myself?"

So Krelig taught him and Calen learned. Learned and planned and waited.


End file.
